


Dinners

by Efstitt



Series: Pre-Strike Jack Hurts and two Post-Strike [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: A leg of lamb, Angst, Beating, Canon Era, Dinner at the Jacobs apartment, F/M, Hurt, Jack is trying but still messes up, Stealing, Whump, mothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-02 00:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efstitt/pseuds/Efstitt
Summary: Jack has just met Dave, and finally goes to Dave’s apartment for dinner with his family, launching a multi-day story. Things are whumpy and sad and sweet and occasionally violent. My summary is crap.





	1. Chapter 1

Dave had a nice family, Jack thought to himself. He trudged down the dark street, hands shoved in his pockets, thinking about his dinner there. He’d gone because he didn’t want Dave to get beat, that’s it. Even though Dave said his parents would be upset with him if Jack didn’t come to dinner, Jack had a hard time imagining that Dave would get beat that bad if Jack didn’t come. Mr. Jacobs didn’t seem that strong, plus he had a bum leg from his accident. Jack had been ready for him, just in case he started to beat on Dave anyway. But he seemed nice. Not the vicious kind—he wouldn’t have given Dave much of a beating. But maybe Dave didn’t get beat that much. Not as bad as the Refuge, anyway. Jack couldn’t puzzle that one out.

Jack had worried that he would take too much of their food at dinner, but when he had looked around the table, everyone had a bowl of soup and some bread, even him. He hadn’t been used to sitting around and eating. He had known enough not to start eating before they did, but when he noticed Les staring at him as he ate, he looked around again and slowed down a little. It was so good, though. He wondered how to keep some for tomorrow, but he didn’t know how to do that save putting some of it in his pockets. Even he knew that wouldn’t work with soup. He eyed the bread, knowing that a piece would fit in his pocket, but then felt humiliated when Mr. Jacobs passed him the plate so he could take a second piece. Was it that obvious? He didn’t like it that he’d been caught thinking about more bread. Jack said no, thank you, to the second piece. He’d figure it out tomorrow, like he always did. He might not know all the right table manners, but he didn’t want Mr. Jacobs to think he was desperate.

Dave’s parents hadn’t asked a lot of questions, either. Dave said he hadn’t told them that Jack had been in jail. Jack didn’t know if they knew that he hadn’t gone to school in a long time, although they had probably figured that part out as soon as he opened his mouth to say hello. He didn’t have nice clothes like Dave and Les, but then, Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs no doubt had that part figured out too after one look at him. But they let him stay anyway, even when they were done eating. He wasn’t entirely sure why they wanted him to stay. He didn’t have much to say, and he didn’t know as much as Dave’s mother or father about much of anything. He didn’t want to intrude in their family evening. Didn’t they have other things they’d rather be doing than talking to him? He kind of felt like he owed it to them to do what they wanted, but he hadn’t done anything for them except disrupt their evening and eat their food. He wanted to leave, even if it meant leaving this warm room and friendly people. What did they want him to do? He couldn’t pay, at least not for everything. He couldn’t give them anything, and they just kept sitting there talking like nothing was wrong. He felt wrong, though. Tense. Useless. A burden that no one would name. It would be easier if they’d just throw him out. He was surely used to that sensation. But no one seemed to be in a hurry. He felt his mind closing in, telling him to get out now. There was no way he should be here. He should go. He had stuff to do at the lodge. Get kids in bed. Stuff.

Mrs. Jacobs had even patted his shoulder before he left. He felt stupid, but when she did that he felt his stomach turn and his face felt real stiff. It was one thing for the littles to hug him. It was another for Dave’s mama to pet him. He didn’t want to leave if she liked him that much. He bet Dave and Les got patted all the time. That would feel good.

But she wouldn’t pat him if she knew he was a thief and had been in jail, a lot, actually. No mother who knew that would want her kids around him if she could help it, and he didn’t blame her. Seemed like he was an expert in stealing and how to get in trouble and not much else. She wouldn’t pat him if she knew his mother had left him when he was twelve, not long after his father had died. She had to go where someone loved her, she said. Jack didn’t know what she meant by that, but she was gone the next morning. Dave’s mother would wonder what was wrong with him if she knew that—no pats on the shoulder then for sure. If his own mother left him, why would Dave’s mother want to touch him, especially with kids of her own? He didn’t want to disappoint her. Best to keep his mouth shut, then. She wouldn’t want to give him dinner ever again if she knew any more about him. And she was a nice lady. She shouldn’t do anything like that for someone like him. Then again, he’d just been so rude to her, he knew he’d never be invited back anyway.

Mayer Jacobs

David and Les finally brought Jack home. Les, naturally, had told Esther and me all about Jack’s record at the Refuge and his history of stealing. David had told me that Jack didn’t want to come have dinner because he didn’t want to bother us. He didn’t come home with David until David told Jack that we would be upset with David if he didn’t come. That changed Jack’s mind, but David was shocked when Jack said, “I ain’t gonna be the reason you get beat, Dave.” We hadn’t meant to scare Jack into thinking we would harm David. But it reminded me to be careful with Jack.

I’d seen Jack out on the street selling newspapers before my accident. A while back I’d even watched him steal from the grocery and not get caught. The boy who came to dinner was not the same boy as the one on the street though. This boy here was filled to overflowing with caution. He entered the apartment slowly, taking it all in, pausing ever so slightly when he saw the window that led out to the fire escape. He looked me over and rolled his shoulder after he met my eyes and shook my hand. He was shorter than me, but was definitely stronger than me. He needed to be sure about that. He was practiced in sizing someone up for a fight, that was clear. He steered clear of me whenever he could, and stayed close to David.

And he was hungry. I knew he was certain he could either escape or outfight me when he didn’t look at anything but the food. Even when Les pointed at his head so Jack would take off his cap (that was rude, Les), Jack grabbed the cap and shoved it in his vest without taking his eyes off the soup and bread on the table as we sat down. He wasn’t about to leave that cap lying around. As we were finishing up (Jack had long since finished), I saw Jack looking at the bread and offered him the plate so he could take another piece. He gave me a guilty look and said no, thank you. I wish he had taken some for tomorrow.

After dinner I asked only about newspapers and about stories he had selling them. Nothing personal. He relaxed a little, but didn’t stay long. He was anxious to get going, bouncing his leg and sitting on the edge of his chair. Eventually he said he had to get back to the lodge, that he had things to check on. So off he went, Esther taking him to the door to say goodbye. I hope he comes back.

Esther Jacobs

Finally that boy came to dinner. I’d worried about him ever since Les had started telling us about how Jack had stolen food, how he’d been arrested more than once (very impressive for Les!), and how he had just escaped yet again. I assumed he was an orphan, but you never could tell. I didn’t know much about this Refuge, but when Jack came through the door, the fading bruises on his face were all I needed to know. His clothes were probably not his—they seemed too big, with the sleeves rolled up but still hanging loose. Maybe borrowing them for now? Did David still have that blue shirt? She’d have to check. And Jack would certainly need new shoes soon—they seemed about to fall apart.

He was so sweet at dinner. He loved my food, although he didn’t take more bread, which did make me wonder why. Maybe I should have put a little more salt in? He surely looked like he could use a second piece. Well, he was so good to stay and tell us and Les some of his stories. I began to think he should stay the night now that it was nearly dark, but before I knew it he said he had to go, and nothing we said seemed to make a difference and get him to stay. I went to the door with him, and wanted so much to give this boy a hug. He probably wouldn’t want a strange woman hugging him, so I just patted him on the shoulder and waved to him as he went down the stairs. “Come back tomorrow,” I called. And much to my surprise, he looked up the stairwell at me. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he turned back down the stairs and left in a hurry.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack laid awake that night, wondering how to let Mrs. Jacobs know he was sorry for not answering her earlier that evening when she had invited him back. He hadn’t known what to say—that he wanted to go through another evening of putting them out just in case she patted his arm again? That maybe she’d wave to him again from the top of the stairs? He hadn’t expected to see that, and it made him feel like he was actually saying goodbye to someone who cared about him, whether she did or not. He’d seen families do that at Christmas and other holidays, when he’d been out selling papes and going by their homes. They’d hug and wave as they brought their gifts out to their carriages, sometimes feeling good enough to give him a tip if they bought a pape from him. Now he was the one with someone waving at him. He curled around Crutchie for warmth and went to sleep, thinking that maybe next time he’d wave back instead of running away.

The next day, Dave said he was welcome to come back for dinner again. Jack said he had some things to take care of first, but maybe.

Jack didn’t want to keep showing up empty handed. He had nothing to give them, was the problem. They’d like it better if he did something to earn dinner with them, he was sure. They couldn’t possibly like the idea of constantly buying more food just for him. They were nice, but not rich. Then Jack knew. He was good at two things, and one of them could help him.

As he stationed himself on the block of kosher groceries, he wondered what would impress Mrs. Jacobs the most. Meat, probably. Anyone could steal a potato or some apples—he’d taught even the littlest newsies how to do that. But a leg of lamb? That would be something.

That afternoon Jack moved steadily toward the Jacobs’ apartment building. His loose shirt was perfect today for hiding his package, although sometime soon he’d really have to save up for a coat. It wasn’t exactly warm out. He climbed the stairs to the Jacobs apartment, took his package out of his shirt, and nervously removed his cap and pushed back his unkempt hair. He knocked. Mrs. Jacobs came to the door, eyebrows raised at the sight of Jack there in the middle of the afternoon.

“Jack, are you all right? Did something happen?” she asked, a look of growing concern on her face. Jack looked at her, shocked.

“Mrs. Jacobs, um, I brung you something for dinner. I thought you might like it since I ate so much last night,” he stammered. “I hope you like it,” he repeated, holding out his package, wrapped in newspaper.

Mrs. Jacobs held the door open and took the package from Jack. She motioned for him to come in, and Jack followed her, twisting his cap in his hands. Mr. Jacobs sat at a chair in their main room, his leg propped up, clearly listening in.

“Jack, what is this?” she asked gently.

“It’s lamb, Mrs. Jacobs. It’s kosher,” he said, anxious to please.

“Jack...,” she hesitated. “You don’t have to bring us anything. We’re happy to have you here.”

“Dinner was real nice last night, Mrs. Jacobs. I just didn’t want to put you out again,” he said.

Mr. Jacobs looked closely at Jack. “Jack, son, how did you get this?”

Jack shifted his feet and pulled at his bag. “I can get something else,” he offered.

“I’m sure you can,” said Mr. Jacobs. “But Jack, I have to ask, did you buy this?”

Jack looked at the floor. No one had ever asked him how he had gotten food that he’d brought back to the lodge, or shared on the street with the other newsies. A thunderbolt hit him—they were going to get the bulls. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He had to get out of here. He looked around quickly, as if a cop could appear of out thin air just by Mr. Jacobs wishing for one.

“I’m sorry,” he said, backing toward the door. “I gotta go. Never mind. I hope you like it. I gotta go.” He thought it had been such a good plan, and now he’d gone and made it a thousand times worse. Now someone had proof that he’d stolen, and he’d be back to the Refuge for good this time. The beatings…the hunger… Jack started breathing hard at the thought of going back to all that.

He turned and went to run down the stairs, his face burning with shame, only to be brought up short by the surprisingly strong grip of Mrs. Jacobs.

“Jack,” she said firmly. “I need you to stay.” Well. She needed him. To stay. No one ever needed him to do that, except Snyder, he thought. Maybe he could work it off for her and everything would be okay. Maybe she needed him to stay so she could get a reward from Snyder. He tried not to look scared as she propelled him to a chair next to Mr. Jacobs.

“Are you…” Jack started.

“We’re not going to get the police. No,” said Mr. Jacobs. Jack eyed him suspiciously, but with a fraction of hope. What were they going to make him do in exchange for not calling the bulls on him?

“You stole the leg of lamb,” Mrs. Jacobs said calmly. Jack nodded, glancing at the door. He knew he could still run, but so far Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs hadn’t actually done anything to him. “If we return it,” she continued, “they will think we stole it. If you return it, you will be sent back to the Refuge, am I correct?”

Jack stared at her. She knew. They both knew. Dave said he hadn’t told them. Les. He was gonna kill him. He started to shake. “I can’t go back there, Mrs. Jacobs. I’ll do anything you say, anything, I swear. But I can’t go back. Please. I’ll do anything,” he said. “Snyder will kill me this time.”

“We won’t do anything to have you sent back, Jack,” said Mr. Jacobs. “But you’ll have to take this lamb to the orphanage. Does that sound right to you?”

“But I brought it for you. I ate so much. I didn’t want to take all your food,” Jack said. Mr. Jacobs looked at him. “Yes,” Jack said. “I can take it there. I won’t bother you again. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He stood to go and picked up the package of lamb.

Mrs. Jacobs stood up. “I’m going with you, Jack. And then you are coming back with me to help me make dinner.”

Jack was speechless. She still wanted him to come to dinner, or at least help her fix it. He could be there with them somehow. He nodded. Mrs. Jacobs put on her coat and said, “Let’s go, then.”

Jack and Mrs. Jacobs walked down the stairs and out on the street. The orphanage was several blocks away. Jack wondered if he should sell his few remaining papes while he walked with her, and decided not to. She might not appreciate it if he shouted headlines into her ear.

“Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs began, “Les told us you were in the Refuge. He said it was for stealing. Is that true?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jacobs,” Jack said. He might as well be truthful if she was going to keep him out of there.

“And why were you stealing?” she asked. She thought she knew the answer, but wanted to know for sure.

“It ain’t easy to sell papes or deliver messages and eat all that regular,” he said. “And once I was on my own, I got picked up for stealing, and we was so cold and hungry that when they let me out, I stole food and clothes for the kids still in there. I got caught. But I escaped,” he said. He was quiet. “And I was stupid and got caught again, this time not for stealing, but they said I did. Mostly I got sentenced for being an escaped convict. They beat me real bad.” Jack stopped. Mrs. Jacobs wouldn’t want to hear about that. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jacobs. I’m real sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Mrs. Jacobs looked at Jack. “You told the truth, Jack. Thank you.”

Jack kept walking, holding onto his bag strap. “Ain’t never any food. It’s a bad place, Mrs. Jacobs.”

“I know, Jack,” said Mrs. Jacobs quietly. She patted his hand. They kept walking. Jack didn’t say anything more.

Esther Jacobs

Who on earth was knocking on our door in the middle of the afternoon, I wondered. And who should be there, of all people, but Jack Kelly. I thought maybe he was in trouble, or got hungry early, or was hurt, but he looked startled that I would ask about any of those things. He shoved a package at me, covered in grease-stained newspaper. He had stolen a leg of lamb for us. His shy smile as he handed it to me told me everything, as shocked as I was. Like David when he used to present me with a handful of wilted weeds, or tiny Les when he proudly showed me how he had cut his own hair. I looked at Mayer and we had Jack come inside. What on earth was this boy thinking, I wondered. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that this would be his way of paying for his dinner. He had even made sure to steal kosher food, which almost made me laugh if it hadn’t been so alarming that he would put himself at such risk for us. If he had gotten caught, there would have been no mercy. What do we do now, I wondered.

When Mayer asked him how he had gotten the lamb, I think Jack realized that perhaps he had made a mistake. We might be poor, but we haven’t had to resort to stealing. It is still wrong. Jack had either never been taught this or had forgotten, perhaps for good reason. Orphans do what they have to do, I know. But I also knew Mayer and I would not have stolen food in our home. I felt for Jack as his face fell. He had done an honorable thing, he thought, and in his way he had. That it might lead him back to the Refuge sent him into a panic, but I didn't want him to run away again. Perhaps it was rude of me to grab Jack's arm, but Mayer was in no condition to chase after him. Someone has to teach this child.

He was stunned that we knew about the Refuge, but he might as well know that we know. The poor boy was embarrassed, but he did tell me the truth. I'm not sure why he would make any of that up. If he had been fabricating anything he probably would have told me a lot more of a story, but he was quiet.

This afternoon I will start teaching him how to cook.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack tried. He tried so hard to cut the potatoes the right way, and the carrots. He’d scrubbed his hands until they were red before getting started, and had to do it again before Mrs. Jacobs could even let him touch the food. Mrs. Jacobs had been patient, saying that it would still taste the same no matter what it looked like. He lost all track of time as he worked. Even if he wasn’t sure he could stay to eat the dinner, since Mrs. Jacobs had only invited him to help make it, he still liked being there helping her. Mr. Jacobs was good at reading out loud, too. He started to think maybe they weren’t going to get the bulls. They weren’t there waiting for him when he and Mrs. Jacobs got back from the orphanage and grocery, so maybe they weren’t coming.

Once he was done with the carrots, Mr. Jacobs asked Jack if he could go to the closet and get a blanket for him. Jack started, thinking he had heard Mr. Jacobs say something else, then calmed down and went and got the blanket. The last time someone had asked him to get something from a closet it hadn’t turned out too good. I’m here, he thought. Not there. Here. He turned back to the table and asked Mrs. Jacobs what else he should do.

“Nothing, Jack,” she said. “We’re doing fine.” She reached up to pat his cheek, and Jack turned his head and closed his eyes. He was sure that no matter what she said, she was going to hit him for messing up the vegetables. She didn’t hit him. He opened his eyes, embarrassed, and rubbed his face with his sleeve. Here, not there. Here, not there. Here. Here.

Just as the meal was coming together, David and Les came home with a rattle of keys and banging through the door, and shouting they had arrived. Jack sucked in his breath, telling himself it wasn’t what he thought. I’m here, he thought. Not there. Here, not there. Not there. Jack suddenly found he didn’t know what to do. He hung in the doorway to the kitchen until Dave drew up short when he saw him.

“Jack! What are you doing here? We waited forever for you and then decided to just come home,” Dave said. “Why are you in the kitchen?”

Jack tried to think of something to say, but was rescued by Mrs. Jacobs. “I saw Jack out on the street and asked if he could come early to help me,” she said. Jack thought this was clever—she had seen him on the street when they had been walking together, and she had wanted help, so he thought that sounded pretty close to some truth.

“I could have helped you, Mama,” he said, laughing. “Does Jack even know how to do anything in the kitchen? I didn’t know the lodge even had one.” He peered into the dish of potatoes and carrots. “Well, they’ll still taste the same, right, Jack?”

Somehow when Dave said it, it didn’t sound as nice as when Mrs. Jacobs had said it. Jack tried to grin and laugh too.

Les jumped on Jack, and Jack swung him around the way little kids liked for him to do. “Hey Jack,” he said. “Are you staying for dinner again?”

Jack stopped swinging him. He wasn’t sure. He wanted to, but didn’t know how to say it. “Probably not,” he said. “I gotta get going and check in at the lodge, make sure everyone’s in for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

Mrs. Jacobs looked at Jack, surprised. “But Jack, you did all this work helping me...,” she said. Jack didn’t know what to say. That she hadn’t actually invited him to eat dinner, only make it? How did he say that without sounding like she had been mean to him, when she had kept him from getting arrested today? How many beatings had she saved him from? He started feeling all tense again. Why did she even want him around?

“It’s fine, Mrs. Jacobs. Thanks anyway,” he said.

“See you tomorrow, Jack,” Dave said. “Maybe you can come over and make me breakfast. Give it to me on a tray in bed.”

“David!” Mr. Jacobs said, shocked.

Jack’s vision darkened. I’m here. Here. Not there. Here in the Refuge. No, here. Dave grinned at him, smirking at his joke. Smirking at him grabbing at the desk, begging for mercy after his whipping. He was so hungry. Get it before the dog does. Grab it.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” he said, getting close to David’s face. “Have me watch you eat breakfast. I ain’t eaten in days, watching you feed the dog steak. Whipping me so I can get the potato before the dog gets it. Or how about handcuffing me to the hitching post and beating the daylights outta me in the freezing rain, huh? You’d like that. Left me out there for hours and I still gotta bring you breakfast.” He grabbed David’s jacket and shoved him against the wall. “What do you want? Steak? Eggs? Toast? And that was just my last time there. What else you want from me? I ain’t even done nothing wrong!” Jack shook David. He drew his hand back and felt a hand on his arm, stopping him.

He heard someone tell him, “Jack. Jack, stop. You’re not there anymore. Come have dinner with us. You helped make it. It’s delicious. Can you smell it? The carrots? Potatoes? Jack, look at me.” And he looked at the voice and saw someone who had fed him. Who had patted his shoulder and his hand. He breathed. He let go of David.

He stopped. The room spun a little. Oh, God, what had he done? The room was silent. He felt someone sit him in a chair. Mrs. Jacobs sat next to him and took his hand. “Jack, look up.” He looked up. “Come eat,” Mrs. Jacobs said.

Jack looked at her, and looked up at David, who stood silently by the wall. “I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I gotta go. I’ll be on my way. Thanks for letting me help you, Mrs. Jacobs. I’ll help you anytime you want.” He stood up and walked out.

No dinner for him tonight, not that he deserved it, unless Crutchie kept something for him, but he probably didn’t since it was getting late. Walking helped clear his head. He felt better, walking back to the lodge. No one was talking to him. He didn’t see any bulls, although maybe Mr. Jacobs had sent David to get them and arrest him for what he just did. Mostly he felt bad for ruining Mrs. Jacobs’ dinner. At least he knew she had enough for everyone now that he was gone.

The littles at the lodge were thrilled to see him, and he tried to keep his mind off of the Jacobs family by playing with them until bedtime. The older newsies stayed up for a while. Shortly before they turned in, Kloppman showed up. After taking care of Jack after Jack’s escape, Kloppman came by the lodge a little more regularly. Jack told him what happened.

Kloppman looked at him. “You screwed up good, kid. You better go say you’re sorry tomorrow.”

Jack nodded. “I know. But I screwed up twice today already. I don’t even know how to screw up the right way.”

“Figure it out. You got a lady friend. Maybe she can help you think,” Kloppman smiled. “Mrs. Jacobs is no fool. She ain’t scared of you.”

Mayer Jacobs

Jack did well in the kitchen for being new to it. Esther bossed him around for a good long time, but it didn’t seem to bother him any. His face lit up the room when she said the food would taste the same no matter the shape of the vegetables, and I couldn’t help but smile too. He’d jump out the window if Esther told him to.

I didn’t mean to startle him by asking for a blanket. I’m not sure what he thought I said, and he was quick about it, which was nice, but he hurried right back into the kitchen with Esther. When she tried to pat his cheek, he was obviously thinking she was going to slap him, and he just stood there, waiting for her to hit him. He didn’t even move out of the way. I looked away before he opened his eyes. This boy has seen some trouble.

But I have to say, something about David set him off this evening. David can be smart alecky sometimes, and sometimes he doesn’t know when to stop. I knew Jack had a history with the Refuge, of course, and had seen his share of fights in the street, but this was something else altogether. He wasn’t even making any sense, but he wanted to hurt David, that much was clear. I couldn’t follow most of what Jack was saying, but it sounded violent, and David looked terrified. I wanted to go stop him, even though I would be easy for Jack to knock down, but Esther shook her head at me. She went over to him and took his arm. I held my breath, because so help me if Jack touched a hair on her head, I didn’t know what I would do.

Later, David told me what Jack had said. Esther and I talked with him for some time, teasing out the details. They painted a brutal picture.

“Mayer,” Esther said to me, “Jack will come back here. He still needs to learn how to cook.” I do believe she brushed her cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

Katherine

Katherine hurried toward the hotel, knowing she was early for lunch with her father, but hoping to finally find Kloppman and find out how Jack was doing. She had to see him. Relieved to see Kloppman’s familiar face at the door, she swept inside to talk to him.

“Miss Pulitzer, you don’t need me to tell you how Jack is doing. You have some time before your father comes to lunch. May I suggest you pass the time in the alley one block south of here?” Kloppman asked.

“The alley,” she repeated.

“Yes, miss.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll be back soon, Kloppman.”

“Very good, Miss Pulitzer.”

Katherine left the lobby and walked one block south. Long before she saw him, she heard Jack yelling out headlines. As soon as he turned and saw her, he disappeared into the nearby alley. She followed, laughing as she felt him pull her hand to get close to her.

She opened her eyes to see Jack smiling, brown curls showing from under his cap, brown eyes gazing at her. The last time she had seen him, he had been dazed from his escape, more in need of food and rest than her company. He had new clothes, well, not new. They were pretty worn, but they were in one piece, more or less, which was an improvement. And much too big—were they Kloppman’s, she wondered. And still no coat. His ears were red, his hands must be frozen, but his face was so happy. The bruises on his face were far less pronounced, and even in a few days he had lost the look of desperate hunger he had had. He still looked like he wouldn’t exactly turn down any food, but he looked better. She wondered how his back looked, but hardly dared to ask. No doubt he wanted to forget.

“An alley, Jack?” she said. “You’re so romantic. Most fellows would take a girl inside, at least.”

Jack looked down. “Newsies ain’t allowed in too many places. The alley is the best I got.” His smile faded just a touch.

Embarrassed that she had embarrassed him, Katherine rushed on. “I’ve wanted to see you, but Father has been so overbearing since he learned you escaped. I have only a few minutes before lunch...” she faltered. “And I have to tell you what he said.”

Jack looked at her. “That can wait. Let’s meet tonight. We can, you know, talk. Inside somewhere,” he said, giving her a knowing smile. “But, um, right now I need your help. You know Dave and Les Jacobs, right?” She nodded, confused; their first day selling was the morning before Jack was rescued. “Anyway, their folks have been real nice to me, but I got real mean with Davey last night, right in their apartment. I didn’t mean to. I want to make it up to his mama, but I don’t know what to do. Kloppman said you’d know.” He looked at her hopefully.

She looked back for a moment, dumbfounded. “How would I know? Because I’m a girl?!” she demanded. “I thought you wanted to see me to talk to me, Jack! I’ve never even met Mrs. Jacobs! Buy them dinner.”

“I tried that. Well, not the buying part. But it didn’t work out so good.”

“You probably scared Les half to death. Get him a real newsies cap,” she said, exasperatedly. “Here’s some money.” She shoved a quarter into his hand. “I have to go, Jack. But it seems you don’t care if you talk to me or not. I wanted to see you to tell you that I can’t see you anymore anyway. Father has threated to disown me if he catches me with you again. Overseeing Father’s new philanthropic work? Gone. Working on the legal case against Snyder and the Refuge?” she asked, pointedly. “Gone.”

“You can sell papes with me, then,” said Jack, grinning.

“It’s no joke, Jack,” she said. “I can’t leave my father. And it’s much harder for a girl to support herself. I just can’t do it. And now it seems you weren’t interested in me after all.” She pulled her hand out of Jack’s and turned back to the sidewalk. Jack tried to pull her back, but she slipped out of his grasp and hurried back to the restaurant.

Jack

Jack sagged against the alley wall. What just happened? She couldn't be serious. Katherine, who had been at his side even in the Refuge, was gone? Because of her father’s money? And it was his fault because he wanted to be nice to Mrs. Jacobs? He looked at the quarter in his hand, tempted to buy himself a really nice lunch. But maybe if he could make it up to Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, Katherine could see that he was worth it. He was good. And he’d have to get a real job soon anyway, maybe one that could make enough money to, well, nothing would impress her, he guessed.

Hands in his pockets, he walked to the used clothing store. Most of the time he had just taken hand-me-downs from the bigger newsies or found something in the barrel here, but it’s not like he could take some kid’s cap and give it to Les. He went to the back, to the barrels of clothes that would be turned into rags at the end of the week. He dug through the barrel of hats, finding a newsies cap for fifteen cents. And a coat for fifty. He had more than twenty-five cents from this morning, but not fifty. He could get a coat with Katherine’s quarter helping him, if he didn’t mind skipping a night at the lodge or not eating until tomorrow sometime. It was pretty raggedy, but anything would be better than nothing. Then he thought of Mrs. Jacobs, of Les standing terrified by the table as he had watched Jack attack his brother. Sighing, he put the coat down and paid for the cap, tucking it into his waistband until he saw Les.

Unknown

Pulitzer’s a smart fellow. He called our boss once his daughter had left the house too early today. “Philumthry work,” she had said. But it was too early for that kind of work, I guess. Anyway, all we had to do was see if she talked to some newsie. Brown hair and stupid, boss said. We followed her to the fancy hotel and then to an alley. And there she was, talking to some kid with brown hair and a newsie bag. Don’t do nothing in front of her, boss said, so we waited across the street. The kid went to a store and came out with a hat, even though he already had one on his head. Stupid is right, we thought.

We followed him for about a block and then split up. There was a good spot behind a building and we could trap him back there for a while before anyone would see us. I went up to him acting like I wanted a pape, and when he looked down to get his next pape out of his bag, I shoved him down the alley. He shoved me back, but he ain’t as big as me. He tried to run to the other end, but the other fellas was waiting for him. We got him behind the building and beat him up good. He got in a punch or two, but it wasn’t nothing that stopped us. Three against one ain’t something he’s gonna win.

I held his arms and the other guys worked on his face and his gut. He got blood coming down from his mouth and his whole face. His ribs ain’t gonna feel so good neither. Once we got him down on the ground he kept trying to get up so we used a couple of pipes to keep him down. His arm might be broke but I ain’t sure.

We finished up on him and drug him to a corner where won’t nobody find him. He ain’t moving now.


	5. Chapter 5

David

Mama wanted me to find him. I didn’t want to find him at all. This loud kid, who showed up a few days after we started and offered us a “chance of a lifetime” to sell stupid papes with him. They said he’d just escaped jail for the second time, and he looked kind of beat up, so maybe that was true. But, I mean, there are laws about jails, right? For kids? I doubt half of what he told us was true. Les liked him, though. So okay. And he was really good at selling newspapers, I guess. He lied an awful lot to get them sold.

Mama insisted we invite him over for dinner. I was sort of glad when Jack didn’t want to come with us. I mean, he looked like he could do with the food, so that part would be good for him, but it’s not like we had a lot in common other than selling papes. Then he somehow he thought my folks would beat me if he didn’t, just because I said they’d be upset, and he didn’t want that to happen. I just rolled my eyes. So he came and slurped his way through dinner and told my family a bunch of lies about selling papes.

I thought that would be the end of it, but Les and I came home the next night and there he was, in our kitchen with Mama. I couldn’t believe it. And since when would Mama ask some strange kid to help her in the kitchen when I’ve done it a million times? Something didn’t add up, but everyone else seemed so happy he was there I didn’t want to say anything. I even tried to make a joke about breakfast, and all of a sudden Jack was in my face going on and on about breakfast and steak and dogs and getting whipped and I don’t know what else. It was kind of scary, and I tried to understand what he was talking about so maybe he’d stop. He was crazy, like he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying. He grabbed and shook me and kept shouting until Mama calmed him down and he left. Mama and Papa wanted to know everything he said, so I told them everything I could remember. Mama cried. Not because I had been in danger, but for Jack.

So today, Mama of course wanted him back, because why not have a violent kid over for dinner every night. But none of the other newsies knew where he went, and he wasn’t at the lodge. Some kid named Albert went and talked to this guy Kloppman, who said Jack had been near the hotel where he works as a doorman. Albert got all of us rounded up and looking for Jack, because he said there’s no way Jack would just disappear like that. I guess he checks on the little kids every night, and he hadn’t done that yet, so Albert thought something might have happened to him.

So here we are, looking through every box and alley and doorway near the hotel, and what the heck is that…

Jack

He was floating. No, he wasn’t. He was jolted to the ground.

“Romeo, get a better grip! You wanna kill him before he even wakes up?” Albert yelled. “Pick him up and don’t drop him this time, jackass.”

Jack floated again until he heard Dave say, “Here we are, fellas. How do you want to get him up to the fourth floor?”

“Big guys take the shoulders, little guys take the feet. Move it,” Albert commanded.

Jack rolled his head and groaned. “What’s happening,” he mumbled.

“Jacky, you look like shit. It’s like a habit or something,” said Albert.

It seemed like forever as Jack was bounced and bumped up the stairs to the Jacobs apartment. He heard Mrs. Jacobs gasp, and Mr. Jacobs give orders of some kind. He was tossed onto something soft. That was an improvement, he thought.

He woke up some time later as Mrs. Jacobs was trying to wipe his face. The alley, three guys… he never had a chance and he knew it. The cloth stung his cuts and he sucked in his breath, but let her continue. She even had bandages. His arm felt stiff until he realized it was in some kind of sling to hold it still. And then he realized he was no longer wearing Kloppman’s shirt. He pulled up the bedsheet, embarrassed.

“Jack, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, I promise,” Mrs. Jacobs laughed quietly. But had she seen? Had she seen his back? He looked at her with an uncomfortable half smile.

“You have some cracked ribs, the doctor said,” she continued. The doctor? Who had taken off his shirt? Who had seen him? “You’ll be all right, Jack.”

He looked at her, not sure how to ask how much she knew. What would she think? She’d probably wonder how bad he was to deserve all that. He’d already made a mess of things here every time he’d come, and now she’s acting like everything was fine. Why was she being so nice? She must not have seen anything, then.

“Mrs. Jacobs, I’m sorry…” he started.

“Hey Jack, how’d you get all them scars on your back?” asked Les from the doorway. “It’s like you were a pirate or something.”

“Les! Leave, now,” Mrs. Jacobs ordered. Les disappeared. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack wished he was a thousand miles away. Why didn’t she hate him yet?

“We had to get you undressed right away so we could see how badly you were hurt and if we needed to get the doctor,” she explained. Great. Mr. Jacobs, Dave, everybody had seen. And how was he ever going to repay her for the doctor? Or for scaring Dave? Or Les? The cap. He grabbed for his waist. The cap, by some miracle, had been stuffed in his pants pocket.

“I got this for Les, Mrs. Jacobs. I’m sorry I scared him the last time I was here. I thought he might like it. I didn’t steal it, neither,” he added quickly.

Mrs. Jacobs took the ragged cap. The bill was broken, the edges were worn and the back had a hole in it. She fingered it for some time. She hates it, thought Jack. I’m such an idiot. Why would she want her son to wear something that awful.

He went to take it back. “Mrs. Jacobs, I’ll find something better. I’ll get him something he might really want. This was dumb.”

Mrs. Jacobs stopped his hand. “Don’t you dare take this back, Jack Kelly. This is a fine gift for Les.”

Jack blinked. Was she blind? How could she think a stupid hat would make up for him almost punching Dave’s lights out? But he didn’t want to contradict Mrs. Jacobs. “Okay,” he said. “But if he hates it he can just throw it away. It don’t matter.”

“Jack, it’s time you ate something. I saved some dinner for you.” Mrs. Jacobs stood up and quickly left the room.

Jack sank back onto the bed, exhausted. Was this Dave’s bed? Where was Dave sleeping, then? Probably with Les, across the room. Nice. Another way to mess up the Jacobs family. Maybe he could get up and get back to the lodge. The doctor said he’d be fine, right? He grabbed the side of the mattress and tried to pull himself up. He grabbed again, inching his way to a sitting position, the pain in his chest stabbing him relentlessly. His face felt like it was twice the normal size. Maybe it was, he thought. Trying not to make more sound than he had to, he reached for Kloppman’s shirt, only to find he couldn’t get it on. His ribs were screaming, his arm was all tied up. Fine. He’d figure it out later. Grabbing the bedpost, he heaved himself to a standing position and gave himself a few seconds to get used to it. His boots. Right there. We’ve slid these on before, haven’t we, boy, he told himself. Now, how to get out without anyone seeing. Not an easy trick. The fire escape, though. It was right there. The window slid open with only a little screech and Jack half rolled, half climbed out onto the fire escape. The cold took his breath away, but Jack told himself not to be such a baby. Trying not to cry from the pain or cold, he eased himself down the steps.


	6. Chapter 6

“Jack.”

Jack froze at the sound of Mrs. Jacobs’ voice.

“I want you to eat this.”

He glanced up the fire escape. Mrs. Jacobs was leaning out the window holding a plate. If she wanted him to eat it, he’d better go eat it. He couldn’t bear the thought of disobeying her. He couldn’t fathom why she wanted him to come back and eat her food, but if that’s what she wanted, then that’s what he would do.

He pulled himself back up the fire escape and painfully crawled back into the bedroom. Mrs. Jacobs handed him the plate, and had him take it to the table. She put a blanket around his shoulders. “Eat,” she commanded. He did as he was told, at least as much as he was able given the state of his face.

“You’re staying here,” she stated. “You can sleep on the floor if you don’t want to have David’s bed. He said he won’t mind. But you’re staying here. That boy Albert said he’d check on the little ones for you.”

“I just cause problems for you,” he protested, feeling bad for arguing with her.

“I decide what is a problem,” she said sternly, “not you. And you are not a problem, Jack.”

Jack ate. He didn’t believe her.

That night, as he lay in Dave’s bed, Jack thought about his mother. Most days he thought she was dead, even though he didn’t even know if she was or not. He missed her. She had been nice most of the time. But he hadn’t been enough. After she left he never saw her again. He watched other families as he sold his papes: kids holding their parents’ hands, being asked what they wanted for their birthdays as they looked in store windows, choosing fabrics for new clothes, eating in restaurants, going skating in the park. He didn’t need to do those things, but they looked nice. He once told a lady his mother was in Maryland, and she said how beautiful Maryland was, and wasn’t he lucky to get to visit her there. After that he just let people think he was an orphan.

After a while, once he didn’t look like he had parents, he started getting harassed by the bulls for loitering, for being in the wrong neighborhood, then arrested for stealing clothes, then food and clothes, and on and on. The fights, the begging when things got hard. The Refuge. His mama. His own mama. Why wasn’t he enough? What should he have done so she would have stayed? He had no idea. His face was sore and swollen, but the tears came anyway. He opened his mouth and screamed silently, crying so hard he could hardly breathe. His ribs hurt. His throat hurt. He stayed still so he wouldn’t bother Dave and Les. The tears ran down his face and neck and made the pillow wet. No one ever saw him cry. Not ever. No one could know how much he missed his mama.

Esther Jacobs

I knew Jack would listen to me. And that night, as I lay awake worrying about him, I heard him crying. He cried for a long, long time. And so I crept into the boys’ room, put my hand on Jack’s forehead, and let him know I was there. He turned his head to me and reached for my other hand. He put it on his cheek, and cried and cried.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack

Jack felt Mrs. Jacobs put her hand on his forehead. He was so ashamed that he had woken her up with his crying. But she didn’t throw him out. She just kept her hand there and didn’t say anything. He gave in and reached for her other hand, hoping maybe she wouldn’t push him away. She didn’t. He put her other hand on his swollen and cut cheek. He kept crying. It hurt so bad, missing her. Why couldn’t his own mama do this. He wanted her. He was worthless. She was gone. Why did Mrs. Jacobs keep sitting there... he wanted her to sit there forever.

She was in the kitchen when he woke up in the morning. His face hurt even more. Dave and Les helped him get up and get his shirt on. Les didn’t say anything about his back. Jack wasn’t sure how he would carry a full bag of papes with his ribs hurting as much as they did, but he had to make some money. He’d been beat up before and gone out selling. Maybe people would feel sorry for him and buy his papes, unless his face scared them off. He was fine, he insisted.

Mrs. Jacobs didn’t want him to go out, and finally relented once Jack promised to be back as soon as he had made enough to pay for the lodge that night.

“Before you go, Jack, I want you to have this shirt of David’s,” she said, holding up Dave’s old blue shirt. “He outgrew it and it will be some time before it will fit Les. Your shirt needs to be washed to get the blood out of it, anyway. Go into the bedroom and change. I’ll wash out your shirt and you can pick it up on your way to the lodge this afternoon.”

Dave helped him change. “This ain’t my idea, Dave,” Jack said, wincing as they switched the shirts out.

“I know, Jacky,” said Dave. “But Mama’s right.”

Jacky, huh.

“I’m sorry about shaking you up, Dave,” Jack said quietly. “I’m not sure what I was thinking. It was like you was from the Refuge, and I just got mad. It ain’t a nice place to think about.”

“It’s fine, Jack,” Dave replied, not too eager to hear the details. “Let’s go.”

Mayer Jacobs

After the boys left, Esther told me about taking care of Jack during the night. We didn’t exactly know why he had cried so much, because it seemed to us he had plenty to choose from. But he had reached for both of Esther’s hands, for both of them to hold his face. That’s something a mother does, we thought. He didn’t look at us much before leaving to sell with Les and David.

Jack

The other newsies had started in first thing by giving him a hard time about Mrs. Jacobs doing his laundry, but after he told them that the next fella who said anything about Mrs. Jacobs would look worse than he did, they shut up.

Jack turned around to look at the headlines, but Katherine was standing in his way. He set his jaw.

“Ain’t you afraid to be seen with me, Miss Pulitzer?” he said, glaring. “Or do I look better to you this morning now that I been worked over pretty good?”

Katherine looked at him, shocked at his battered face. “What happened to you? Why do you think I know anything about it?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” said Jack. “Just after I saw you and you got all mad at me I just happened to be jumped by three goons who were all twice my size. Nothing to do with you at all.”

“I didn’t...oh never mind. I’m here to warn you, Jack. The headline today...” she started. “I’m here to get the newsies’ reaction for my story... I started working at The Sun today...”

Jack looked at her, startled.

“Hey Jack, they raised the price of papes!” Les cried. The crowd of newsies started shouting, louder and louder.

Jack Kelly, strike leader.

He came back with Les and Dave after going to Brooklyn to tell their newsies about the strike. He let them explain the whole thing to Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, wanting nothing more than to get Kloppman’s shirt and give back Dave’s old blue one. They’d hate him now for sure, now that no one was making any money. But he found himself sitting at the table once more, still being given the same dinner as everyone else. This time, ribs aching, he got up from the table and told Mrs. Jacobs he’d clean up. He could at least do that.

Esther Jacobs

I asked Jack about his mama this evening. He stopped drying the dish in his hand and looked at me. “I don’t know where she is,” he said. “I don’t know if she’s still alive or not.” He looked at the towel and started drying again.

“Jack,” I asked, “when did you see her last?”

He kept looking at the dish in his hand some more. “I was about twelve or so. I don’t remember. After my father died.” He put the dish away and took another wet one.

“I see. Well, for what it’s worth, Jack, I don’t understand how she could leave you.” I was poking my nose in where it didn’t belong, but there, I said it.

Jack stared at the dish. He put it away and dried another one. He didn’t say another word.

Jack

No one had ever told Jack that maybe his mama had made a mistake.

Esther Jacobs

Jack left this evening wearing David’s blue shirt, with Kloppman’s tucked under his arm. He came up to me and lifted my hands to his face. He kissed the bottom of one of my palms. I patted his cheek, and waved to him as he went down the stairs. He waved a little wave back.


End file.
